


Scapegoat

by The_Dawn_Knight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Fam Fluff, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Thomas Wayne Lives, Thomas Wayne is a Bad Parent, Wayne Enterprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dawn_Knight/pseuds/The_Dawn_Knight
Summary: Upon running out of money while being a carefree playboy overseas, Bruce returns home to his parents to get more money. Instead he stumbles upon his father's shady enterprise and four kids who steal, hack, cheat and kill at his Father's whim. Their skills seemingly sold to the highest bidding crime Lord. Now he's going to have to improve his own skills in order to make a few necessary changes to how the Family Business is run.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	Scapegoat

“Are you ready?” Tim asked. He was sitting in front of a large computer in Mr. Wayne’s corner office. His view overlooked the garden outside, and the moonlight from the large windows offered more than enough light.. He didn’t look up when the man walked in.

Grayson took his mask off and removed his white gloves. “I will be...”

Tim looked up from the computer. He was already fully dressed in his tactical suit. “How soon until you’re ready?”

“Five minutes,” Grayson said removing his jacket. “Is Nobody on this mission?”

“He’s meeting us there.” Tim explained.

“And Jay?”

“He’s… being _him_ ,” Tim pointed out.

Grayson sighed before walking over to the large computer, he brought up the frequency that Jason’s audio feed was connected to and hit the talk button so he could hear him.

“Jaybird?” he said sternly.

“What?” Jason snapped on the other end clearly not sounding happy. He could hear Jason’s motorcycle turn off in the background.

“Tim tells me you’re pouting again,” Grayson said still undressing he let his clothes fall to the floor and Tim brought him his uniform setting it beside him on the dashboard.

“I’m not pouting!”

“Why are you pouting?”

“I said I’m not!”

“Okay why are you not pouting…” Grayson started pulling on his uniform.

“Your… your parents are coming today aren’t they…”

Grayson paused as he started pulling on his shirt, but only for a second, then he tugged it on the rest of the way before attaching his utility belt.

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to see them,” he said it bluntly with no sign of emotion. “I’m going to send the coordinates to you. Can you get to us before seven?”

“Not if I’m going to complete my quota,” he pointed out.

“Where are you?”

“Goth jewelers,” the volume of his voice lowered considerably, and Dick realized he was likely hiding from someone.

“Understood. Meet us when your done. Gray out,” he hit a button to cancel the call and then put on his mask, he turned to Tim grinning. “You ready to go baby bird?”

“I guess,” he answered. “And would you quit calling me that?”

“C’mon, I think it’s cute,” he walked over to the window. It faced the opposite side of the manor to where the guests were starting to arrive. Mr. Wayne was hosting a party. No one should see them sneak out of it. He lifted the window open and climbed out on the ledge. Tim followed him.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to be called it, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m sixteen.”

“You’re always going to be baby bird to me,” Dick joked before jumping down.

They took their motorcycles. It was a twenty minute ride to their target location. Nobody was waiting form them.

“About time you showed up,” Nobody said. He was leaning against a tree his arms folded a frown on his face.

“Who are you here to kill?” Nightwing asked walking over to him he looked over to the warehouse in the distance. Thomas only had Nobody show up when someone needed to die. It always bothered Dick, because he was just a kid, ten years old at the most. He was the only one of them that Dick didn’t know personally. He didn’t live in the manor like Jason and Tim did, and he never saw him until a mission happened that required that someone die. He had asked many times, but the kid never told him who he was. Though he was pretty sure Thomas didn’t want him to tell.

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Fair enough,” Dick answered, he glanced around before adding. “Hood’s not here…”

“Should we start without him?” Tim asked taking out a pair of binoculars he eyed the warehouse.

“It’s probably better that we wait,” Dick explained.

“Well I’m on a time limit,” Nobody snapped before rushing forward.

“Nobody wait!” Nightwing called in vain.

Tim turned to Nightwing looking concerned as Nobody jumped over the fence. “Seriously, did he not see the sign?”

“I know… That damn kid rushes into everything…”

The fence surrounding their targe location had a number of brightly colored signs. Reading: ACTIVE LAND MINES.

“Let’s grab him. Turn on your detection lens!” he ordered as he took off after him. The lens he referred to was built for detecting abnormalities. It was most often used for detecting bombs and various materials. He used the computer built into his wrist guard to activate it and the places where the bombs were buried suddenly lit up.

He kept calling for Nobody to stop over their intercom devices, but he didn’t. He hurried on, impulsive as ever, until…

*CLICK*

He stopped dead in his tracks, his shoulders slumped as the realization hit him. Nightwing cursed under his breath hurrying to his side. Nobody had grabbed the hood of his cowl and pulled it down to cover his face. Clearly embarrassed.

“Next time I tell you to wait, what are you going to do?” Dick teased.

He let out a soft grown.

“I can disarm it, but it’s going to take time,” Tim explained.

“So it’s just us then.” Nightwing turned upon hearing Hood’s voice. He walked up his arms folded. He had made it after all. Nightwing breathed a small sigh of relief. He liked it better when his brothers were close and he could know that they were okay.

“We need Red Robin’s hacking skills to get in there,” Nightwing pointed out.

Nobody let out a low sigh, “I screwed up, just leave me.”

“Remind me when he’s not standing on a bomb to hit him for that remark,” Hood said.

“I can do both,” Tim completely ignored Nobody’s remark. He handed Nightwing a small metal device. “Put this on the control panel, and I’ll hack into it from here. While I disarm the bomb.”

“Alright,” Dick said taking the device from him. “But put the majority of your focus on the bomb.”

“All of you stop!” Nobody snapped. “I… I’ll be quick enough. Back away, and I’ll jump off it.”

“You’re fast kid,” Hood admitted. “But you’re not outrun an explosion at point blank range fast.”

“Alright everyone, we got a job to do,” Nightwing said and added in a whisper, “Be careful Tim.”

He used his real name for emphasis. In truth, Dick wanted to stay behind. Even though he knew the basics for disarming a bomb, Tim was far more skilled at it, so it made sense for Tim to stay instead. But something that dangerous, he would have preferred to do the job. He always did his best to take on the difficult jobs to spare his brothers any more pain than was necessary. But this was the safest option.

“Hood c’mon, you two, join us when you’re done.”

Nightwing and Hood took off towards the warehouse.

“Do me a favor and don’t fidget,” Tim ordered as he got down on his stomach and painstakingly started pushing aside the dirt away from his foot.

“I’m telling you I can outrun it,” Nobody snapped.

“Sure,” Tim answered. “You wouldn’t even be in this mess if you had just stopped for two seconds and read the signs.”

He pulled his hood further down to cover up more of his face. “Just hurry up…”

Avoiding the mines, Hood and Nightwing made their way to the warehouse. Nightwing placed the device on the control panel by the doors.

“Red you should be connected,” Nightwing called.

Back in the field with nobody, he took a small laptop out of his utility belt opening it. He switched from pushing the dirt away from the bomb and typing on it. Dick knew the stress of it had to be horrible, having your face that close to a bomb. Knowing that any mistake could be your last. But also having to ensure you hacked into the security protocol of an enemy base. He was also hoping against hope that Nobody didn’t get impatient and just decide to take off. But he doubted he would do that with Tim that close. For all his talk, Nobody had shown many times that he worried for their safety.

“The program should be through in four minutes,” Red said glancing from the computer back to the bomb. Nobody’s foot was on top of it in just about the worst way he could have been. He had to dig down a bit to get to the mechanics and if it was a newer model with a screw on panel, this would be pretty much impossible. If this turned out to be the case, Red had decided he would just trigger the bomb with both of them there. Their was no point in having the, _theirs nothing I can do. You’re going to die_ , talk with a ten year old. Besides, it would be his way out of this mess too, so he just wouldn’t say anything and let Nightwing and Hood think he just screwed up.

As he got down further though he noticed it was an older model. Still dangerous, but this would be a little bit easier than he thought originally. He reached in his belt and cut the wire needed. Then he turned back to the computer. “Two more minutes and you should be in,” he said into their communication device. Then he looked up at Nobody.

“You can move now,” he said calmly.

“I’ll test it after you get away,” Nobody said.

“What? You don’t trust me?” Red teased.

“If you made a mistake, theirs no point in both of us dying,” he explained simply.

“First rule when it comes to me,” Red said lightly hitting the back of Nobody’s knee causing him to stumble forward. He braced for an explosion that didn’t come. “I don’t make mistakes…”

Nobody looked down at the bomb half covered in dirt and grinned, “Great!”

He turned preparing to take off once again and Red grabbed his cape stopping him. “Wait!”

He grabbed Nobody’s wrist hitting a few buttons on it which turned on the detection lens in Nobody’s mask. Their were spots on the ground that were glowing now.

“There… Next time, think for two seconds dumbass,” he said before scooping up his computer he took off towards the warehouse. Nobody didn’t move for a moment, letting the insult sink in, before he shook it off and hurried after him.

It wasn’t long before they met up with Nightwing and Hood.

“Nice to see you’re both alive,” Nightwing said jokingly, but he put a hand on the wall steadying himself as his tensed muscles relaxed from the stress of worrying about them dissipated. Red hurried to the device hitting a few dials on it. Two beeps and…

“I’m in, I control this whole warehouse,” he hit a few buttons on his computer. “All doors are unlocked; the security system has been disarmed.”

“Awesome,” Hood said and he used a crowbar to open the window beside him.

“There is a door right here!” Red snapped furiously.

Nobody followed Hood happily and Nightwing shrugged before climbing through the window after them. Coming to terms with the fact that he worked with idiots, Red turned the door handle and walked in like a normal fucking person.

Once inside Nightwing instructed the others on where to put the bombs they had brought while Nobody took off towards one of the upper levels.

“He’s here to kill someone right?” Hood asked looking after him. “Is anyone even here at this hour?”

“Six people are here,” Red answered. “I scanned for heat signatures. Four guards are patrolling and two men are in the upper office.”

They heard a loud crash from above. “Damn couldn’t he wait until we had these placed?”

“Just move faster,” Nightwing ordered before tackling one of the guards that had entered knocking him out. A second one started shooting at him and he jumped behind a metal pillar to avoid the bullets.

Between the commotion downstairs and the commotion upstairs it was getting difficult to keep everything straight. The lids on the large tanks at the center of the warehouse suddenly opened and billowing smoke came pouring into the room.

“Everyone masks. Now!”

They all took them out putting them on their faces.

Nightwing looked at the screen on his wrist, “We’re missing three bombs at the top.”

Hood was in the process of fighting another guard which he threw off the edge of the platform he was on onto a pile of crates. “I’m on it.”

Nobody suddenly landed beside him, “Need me to put one somewhere?”

Nightwing turned to him. He had blood all over him that he didn’t have before. On the side of his face and neck. The bottom of his cape and chest. Though, it didn’t appear to be his own blood because he wasn’t acting hurt. He was however covering his face with his cape.

“Wait? Don’t you have a mask?”

“No,” he answered.

“Fuck,” he snapped taking off his own he put it on Nobody’s face. Attempting to breath as little as possible he called to Hood. “Are you almost done.”

“Almost.”

“Everyone else grab a guard and head out, Hood meet us at the start,” he ordered and he lightly shoved Nobody ahead of him to tell him to get moving before searching for Red. Who was in the process of fighting another guard.

They grabbed each grabbed a guard on their way out making sure they were clear of the blast and then they rushed off to the tree they had met at in the beginning.

Nightwing was coughing from the fumes and Nobody took the mask he had been given and handed it back to Nightwing. He put it on hoping the fresh oxygen would help clear out his lungs a bit. “Hood are you clear?”

“Just grabbing the last guy.”

He turned to Nobody. “The two in the office. Did you…”

“Dead, both of them,” he said smiling. _He was smiling_ … His expression looking like a child who had just did a good deed and was expecting praise.

Nightwing didn’t smile back. He just put a hand on his earpiece. “Hood, how long?”

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see hood there. Safe and sound.

One, two, and three. Three of his soldiers went in. Three came out. They were good. Another mission survived.

“Great,” Nightwing said pulling out a trigger he hit the button.

The explosion was loud, bright, engulfing. They had all paused to watch it a moment before Nightwing let out a sigh. “Miss. Isley should be happy.”

“We better get back,” Hood frowned. “You don’t want to miss your _party_.”

His words were bitter.

“You’re having a party?” Nobody questioned curiously. “Is it your birthday?”

“It’s… more of an anniversary kid,” Nightwing said his expression looked hurt and Nobody had the overwhelming sense that he shouldn’t ask more about it.

“I’ll start working on the report for Mr. Wayne,” Tim said.

“I gotta finish my quota,” Hood explained. “I’m still a few thousand dollars short.”

“Guess I’ll head to my… party,” Nightwing turned to Nobody who was still watching the billowing smoke and dancing flames from the explosion. “What are you doing now?”

“I have to go home,” he explained.

“Alright then,” Nightwing turned heading back to his vehicle. “Good work everyone.”

* * *

It was chilly when he stepped out of the limo. Bruce had to pull up the collar on his long black trench coat to protect himself from the bite of the cold air. The Wayne manor looked just how he remembered despite his not having been home in years. The only notable difference was a small chip in the cement steps had been repaired, so that section of the step was slightly discolored compared to the rest of it. Bruce had caused that chip when he was a child, but… he could not remember how. Bruce mostly just remembered his Father getting unnecessarily upset about it and it not being repaired for years.

There were people going in and out of the entrance all dressed to impress, but under layers and layers of coats and shawls to protect themselves from the chilly air.

Why was he here again? Oh right… this was a charity of some kind, and his father had wanted him here for it. But he knew it was not the party that he had wanted Bruce to attend. Perhaps partly, but not really. He and his mother had been begging he come home for years… Twelve to be exact. He sent them cards, he called, but this was the first time that he had physically been home.

His mother would probably be overjoyed. His father would likely be surprised. They will both think he returned out of the kindness of his heart, or maybe boredom with his life overseas. But neither was the case. Bruce was home because… He was out of money.

Thus he would have to suck up for a few weeks, get his father to cut a check, and then he would be able to go back across the ocean to his life of luxury, soothing drugs, and beautiful women. Affixing his best smile to his face he walked into the party handing his coat to his servant Alfred at the door who gave it to the man checking in the coats before he followed in Bruce’s wake. Alfred had been handed a white mask that shielded the top half of his face. Father did this for all the servants and staff at large functions. So their was no mistaking who were guests and who were workers.

He spotted his father very quickly; it would have been difficult to not notice him. Thomas Wayne always commanded the attention of everyone in the room. He was charismatic and had a bellowing voice that was so distinct you could pick his voice out of a crowd with the same ease of finding a blood red dot on an pure white wall.

Bruce glided past the party goers until he was standing before his father grinning as brightly.

“BRUCE MY BOY!” he cheered happily dropping his conversation with the two men before him, he hurried over hugging Bruce tightly, very nearly lifting him off the ground despite the fact he was a grown man.

“C’mon Dad,” Bruce said feeling a bit embarrassed as everyone nearby had turned at the sound of Thomas’ cheer.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said grinning releasing him but he clapped both his hands on Bruce’s shoulders taking the sight of him in. “You’re shorter than when I last saw you.”

Seeing as Bruce had been 19 when he last saw him, this was certainly not true. But it was a favorite quip of his ever since Bruce was young.

“I think you need to get your eyes checked old man,” Bruce teased back grinning a smile that almost perfectly mirrored his father’s.

Thomas laughed ruffling his hair as if Bruce were seven years old again, and the usual aversion he felt for his father seemed to sink into the pit of his stomach. The man knew how to push every button he had, as only family could know, and he would push them on purpose much of the time. Annoyed he did his best to fix his hair despite not being able to see it. Keeping his end goal in mind he spoke up, “So what’s this charity for?”

“It’s more of a fund raiser,” Thomas explained. “For exploited and missing children. This is the tenth anniversary since the Grayson boy went missing.”

“Grayson boy?” he asked.

“Our son.”

He turned upon hearing the voice. A man and woman stood behind him. They were smiling politely, but there was no joy behind the smiles. Bruce felt his own slip off his face, because it was hard to hold up a grin when looking upon smiles that were threatening to collapse at any moment.

“Your Bruce yes?” she said and he nodded. “I thought so. You look like your father. This is… all thanks to him. He is kind enough to host this fundraiser for us every year in memory of our boy. The money helps other children who have been hurt or kidnapped get returned to their parents.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bruce said holding out a hand he shook hers solemnly.

“Thank you,” the woman said with a slight nod of appreciation. Her husband who had a hand on her shoulder said nothing. His gaze was on the floor, his eyes overly glossy but no actual tears formed.

“Would you like to see him?” she said the words eagerly as though she lived for the moments she could show someone her son’s picture she had already opened her clutch before he answered. He didn’t want to see the child. It was bad enough when parents would pull out photos of their living children to show off and dote over. But being ambushed with the photo of a dead child was certainly worse.

Still he didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Sure,” he muttered as the woman moved to his side holding out her son’s photo. Though the first thing he noticed wasn’t the photo. He noticed her ring. Gold wire encircled small pearls, forming the shape of a bird’s nest with eggs resting in it. On the edge of nest was a pearl specifically colored to match that of a robin. It was a unique looking and rather beautiful ring. But he quickly turned his attention to the photo. A ten year old boy looked back at him. Bright eyed, a smile on his face. He had dark black hair, and blue eyes. The photo was taken from the side catching an arched hairline and a small birthmark behind his ear. It looked to be his birthday. There was a cake in the background, and he was holding a box wrapped in blue paper with a large bow. A man was seated beside him, likely his father. But he was out of frame as the photo was focusing on the boy. The photo was worn from years of being handled and cried over.

“We worked at a circus, there was a fire a few days after that photo was taken. In the commotion, we lost sight of Dick in the crowd and… we never found him.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bruce said softly.

“It’s okay,” she answered softly. “I’m sure he’s in a better place.”

“A drink Mrs. Grayson?” asked a servant who appeared at her side. He too wore a mask as well as a suit, white gloves, polished black shoes. In his had he held a tray of freshly poured drinks.

“Oh, yes thank you,” she said taking one. “Darling do you want one?”

She had indicated her husband and he responded silently shaking his head no.

“Take one Sir,” the servant encouraged. “It’ll help you feel bet—”

The servant who had turned to face him suddenly paused and then quickly turned back to the wife and reached out grabbing the drink from Mrs. Grayson making her jump. A little spilled on the ground as well as the servants’ glove. “Apologies ma’am. I completely forgot. This chardonnay was sweetened with strawberries.”

“Oh my god, thank you,” she said looking slightly accosted. “How… did you know I’m allergic to strawberries.”

“Mr. Wayne ensures we memorize any dietary restrictions of his VIP guests; this was just my slip up. I apologize completely,” he said. “I’ll bring you something else right away.”

With that, he hurried off.

“Oh gosh… that could have been… Thank you Mr. Wayne,” she said turning to Bruce’s father as she took the photo back. Bruce frowned noticing the fancy ring was no longer on her hand. He didn’t call attention to it, but he was certain that servant had just stolen it.

“Father I’m going to go see if you have something a little stronger than chardonnay,” he said and offered a polite, _it was nice to meet you_ , to the Graysons.

He whispered for Alfred to remain there and then headed after the servant following him into the kitchens, though he didn’t immediately head to the drinks. He walked through the kitchen past the busy cooks and waiters who rushed about, and entered a back room. Bruce followed quickly catching up, he spotted the guy taking the ring out of his pocket as he walked over to a window at the end of the hall. He supposed he needed light to properly appraise the piece of jewelry he had taken.

Bruce sped up his pace walking up to him he ripped the white mask off his face.

“Wha…” he was surprised at first but recovered himself quickly as he put the ring back in his pocket. “Hello Sir, did you need something?”

“I needed to see your face,” Bruce said throwing the mask back at him, which he caught. “So I can point out the thief to my father.”

“Father?” He frowned, but his eyes widened up on the realization. “You’re Bruce Wayne…”

“I am,” he snapped. “Give me back the ring, and I’ll let you keep your job.”

“…” he reached into his pocket pulling the ring out he handed it back to Bruce.

“What’s your name?”

“Anthony,” he answered.

“If I catch you stealing anything else, I’ll be reporting you,” he warned. “You’re damn lucky I don’t report you now.”

“Sorry,” he answered briefly.

“You should be,” he snapped before heading back to the party. He walked up to Mrs. Grayson who was alone now. Her husband appeared to have gone off somewhere and she was speaking with a young woman who she had convinced to look at her son’s picture.

“Mrs. Grayson,” Bruce said attempting to interrupt as politely as possible. “Forgive me, I found this on the floor, and I seemed to recall you having a ring like this.”

He handed the ring to her.

“Oh,” she gasped looking down at her hand where hers was clearly missing. “Oh thank you!”

She took it back putting it on once again. “Thank you so much Bruce! This… This ring was a very dear present from our circus director. He made it when our son joined our act. His stage name was Robin. Hence the… bird… I’m so sorry. Sometimes I get lost in thought and can’t stop talking.”

“Never apologize for getting lost in happy memories,” Bruce said smiling. “Sometimes, happy memories are the only things that get us through the day. I have to get back to my father, but I do hope I see you again.”

“Likewise, Bruce, thank you again,” she said softly before turning back to the woman she was speaking with.

Bruce headed back to his father who immediately started to introduce him to other people at the party, gloating about how happy he was that his boy had come home. A few of his colleagues asked if Bruce would be stepping up to his duties as CEO and working in person from now on. This confused Bruce, and when the colleagues moved on he turned to his Father.

“Why are they saying I’m CEO?” he asked.

“Oh… it’s nothing really. I just sort of… turned the company over to you a few years back, and said you’ve been giving your commands from overseas.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t be mad, I’ve been wanting you to take over for me for some time. You were always too busy to come home and I’m not getting any younger. It’ll be easier for the transition if they already know your name and think you’re running the show, rather than wait who knows how many years until you’re ready to take up the mantle.”

“Dad this is just a visit,” Bruce assured him.

“Ah, we’ll see. Who knows, maybe you’ll decide to stay,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “CEO does pay quite a bit and if you officially stepped up. I could see turning these last few years wages over to you. I’m banking you’re running low on cash aren’t you?”

“…” he wasn’t going to admit to that, but his Father laughed loudly as though he had.

“I thought so, you can’t keep anything from your old man,” he grinned clapping his shoulder loudly and Bruce briefly debated how horrible it would be to get an actual job.

* * *

Dick walked into the office where Tim was typing up their report from earlier that night.

“Hello Anthony,” he teased when he walked in. “Trying out a new name are we?”

“Shut up,” he frowned. “It was the first name that came to mind. Did you finish the report?”

“Almost,” he answered.

“Leave out the bomb part,” Dick said leaning over his chair to look up at the screen he was typing it up on.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” he said. Dick didn’t know how Mr. Wayne handled mistakes made by Nobody. But if it was anything like how he handled the mistakes made by them… Well, he didn’t want Nobody having to endure a beating just because of a simple mistake any kid might make.

“If he finds out I left something out of the report—”

“I’ll tell him I altered it then,” Dick said. “Don’t worry about it, just don’t include it.”

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” he sighed.

Dick smiled ruffling Tim’s hair, “C’mon, you know I do everything in my power to ensure you three get in as little trouble as possible.”

Letting out a low sigh Tim deleted that portion of his report, and Dick put his mask back on before heading back to the party.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my original Scapegoat story, but I figured out a better way of starting it than what I had previously.


End file.
